


Heat

by ymorton



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kinkmeme prompt, wanted really hot sex. TEMPERATURE hot. </p>
<p>Written Feb. 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> fake

"Goddamnit, Mark-" Eduardo gasps, "It's too fucking hot for this-"   
  
Mark just slides a hand, wet, through the sweat on Eduardo's back, and pushes his fingers in again.  
  
Eduardo exhales, hard, skin prickling despite the heat when Mark crooks a knuckle against his prostate.   
  
"Jesus fuck-" he says, breathless, and Mark rubs his hand over Eduardo's back again. Eduardo's on his hands and knees, trembling, because Mark won't take his fucking fingers out of him and he keeps thrusting, ragged and  _hard_  against that spot and Eduardo can't even see, sweat blurring his vision, eyes stinging deliciously. He feels hot and open and wet, and he shakes his hair out of his face, letting out a keen when Mark takes his fingers out.   
  
"You want me to-"   
  
"Fucking - Mark, just fuck me. Now."   
  
Mark exhales, shocked, a little groan. "Yeah- yeah, okay," he says, dazed, and slides in. Eduardo's slick with sweat and lube, from earlier, and he goes in easy, hits that spot again, right away, after only a couple slow thrusts.   
  
"Oh God," Eduardo groans, desperate, and throws his hips back, fucking himself on Mark's cock. Mark bites his lip and draws blood; his hair is sticking to his forehead, clingy and damp.   
  
"C'mon, Wardo," he says, low in his throat, setting a rhythm, and the sounds are terribly obscene, wet and intimate and loud. Eduardo's choking on his own breath, forcing little moans out of his mouth with each thrust, and Mark's gasping like he just sprinted up a flight of stairs.   
  
"Yeah- yeah- yeah-" Eduardo pants, shameless, like a dog in heat, twisting himself on Mark's cock like he needs it. Mark goes even hotter, face burning, when he thinks of it. He probably looks the same.   
  
"Mm, Mark, yeah, I'm gonna- " Mark nods determinedly and hits that spot once, twice, three more times, and Eduardo's coming, pounding his fist on the bed, clenching frantically around Mark. The entire slick tan expanse of his back ripples as he pants, and Mark squeezes his eyes shut and comes, feeling sweat drip down his face and off his chin and onto Eduardo's naked ass.   
  
Eduardo groans through it, because Mark's coming inside him and he must feel it, he has to.   
  
He finishes and pulls out, collapses on his back next to Eduardo, who's lying spent on his belly.   
  
Eduardo huffs out a laugh, naked and unashamed and practically dripping with sweat and come, and Mark, on some random impulse, slides a wet finger into him again.  
  
Eduardo's whole body jerks. "Mark," he whispers breathlessly, already picking his hips up a little, and Mark pushes against his prostate and takes his fingers out again. Eduardo sigh resignedly, a long gust of a breath, and runs a lazy hand through his hair.   
  
"You fucker," he says halfheartedly, and Mark knows the feeling. They do everything halfheartedly, because it's so fucking hot and Harvard's old dorms don't have A/C, not during that humid sticky August week before classes start.   
  
They do everything halfheartedly except fuck, because it's them, and they just can't.   
  
Eduardo turns over onto his back and runs a hand down his stomach.   
  
"Goddamn," he sighs, and Mark nods a little, letting his eyes fall shut. Warm afternoon light filters in around the edges of the curtains, and Eduardo sighs again, eyes closed. The heady scent of sweat and come and cologne and still-somewhat-clean sheets rises above them; a breeze blows through the open window. Mark lets Eduardo rest three fingers on his inner wrist, and falls into a drowsy soft sleep. 


End file.
